Into the Arms of a Cowboy

by Isabella Ashe

  He met her eyes for the first time. His expression was tortured, his mouth twisted bitterly. “Don’t you?”

  “I haven’t told you any lies.”

  “No. You haven’t told me much at all.” He chuckled, but it was a harsh, humorless sound. “Am I being naive again, Cassie? Are you playing games with me?”

  “No,” she said. “No, Jess.”

  “I’m not the smartest man on earth. I know that. I didn’t even finish college. I hit the rodeo circuit instead. Maybe Danielle was right. Maybe I am a fool. A fool to trust you. A fool to--” He broke off and turned his face away, raking his fingers through his hair.

  Cassie swallowed a quick denial, knowing her words would mean nothing in the face of Jess’s fears. She stared at Jess’s slumped shoulders, the curve of his broad back, the thick black hair curling against the nape of his neck. Was there anything more vulnerable, more boyish and endearing, than the nape of a man’s neck? Surely not. Her heart was breaking for him.

  She comforted him the only way she knew how. She rose onto her knees and leaned toward him, laid her hand against the tanned skin on the back of his neck, and pulled his face close to hers. “This isn’t a game to me,” she whispered.

  And then she kissed him.

  She kissed him quickly, fiercely, pressing her lips hard to his for no more than a half-second before she pulled away. It wasn’t a seductive kiss, like the brain-melting, nuclear-blast sort of kiss they had shared in the kitchen. This time he had no time to respond, to part her lips or claim her mouth as he’d done the night before. He only stared at her, waiting.

  She was intensely grateful for the darkness that hid the furious flush stinging her cheeks. She had something to say, and she meant to say it. Better to get it out, despite her embarrassment, than to live the rest of her life wishing she had.

  “This isn’t a game,” she repeated. “Jess, I want you to know that I’ve never met a man I cared for so much.” She hesitated, blushing again. “Maybe this isn’t a very ladylike thing to say, but I--I’ve never--” Her voice faltered, and she cleared her throat. “To hell with ladylike. I’ve never wanted any man as much as I want you.”

  For the first time, a slow, sexy smile curved Jess’s firm mouth. Even in the dark, his eyes twinkled like the stars above them. “Is that right?”

  She lifted her chin. “That’s right.”

  He caught her face in his hands and touched his thumb to her lower lip. She caught her breath as the hard, callused surface pressed into her sensitive flesh. He drew his thumb back and forth, as if testing the softness of her lips, and the sensation provoked a thousand tiny explosions in Cassie’s blood.

  “Hell, I want you, too,” Jess growled. “I guess it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.”

  In spite of her initial audacity, Cassie suddenly wondered if she’d gone too far. She swallowed hard. “But I don’t want you to--you know--do anything you don’t want to do, so if you’d rather be alone. . . .”

  Jess laughed, his face just inches from her own. His breath warmed her lips. “I don’t want to be alone. Do you?”

  “N-no. I think I--”

  His mouth descended on hers, and whatever she had meant to say was lost forever. His kiss was warm, thorough, searching--a question, at first, and then, when she responded eagerly, more aggressive. How could his mouth feel hard and soft at the same time? she wondered dizzily. Shouldn’t it be one or the other?

  Jess pressed her back on the grass and she let herself fall, cradled as she was by his well-muscled arms. The stars whirled over her head and then she closed her eyes and they were gone. The solid length of Jess’s body covered hers. She squirmed until the hard shaft of his arousal pressed itself into her lower belly, and heard his explosive groan. Cassie’s body responded, too. She felt sharp, pleasurable ache of and then a sudden slickness between her legs.

  Jess’s fingers were tangled in her hair, which had somehow come undone from the knot on the back of her head. He smelled like leather, grass, rain, and also faintly of his now-familiar musky aftershave. His skin was so warm where it touched her cool skin, his mouth hot on her throat, his hands under her T-shirt, on her belly and then her breasts. . . . oh, Jess’s hands, not gentle now in the urgency of their coming together, but not like Andrew’s, either--Andrew, who had also lain on top of her--Andrew, who was dead--

  “Cassie?”

  Jess’s voice. He’d felt her stiffen. He drew himself onto his elbows, and she cried out in dismay as the chill night air touched her skin again, cried out at the loss of contact with Jess’s body.

  “Cassie, what happened just now?”

  She reached for him, and tried to pull him down to cover her again. “Nothing, it was nothing, just something I remembered. Please. . . .”

  He still sheltered her body with his own, but the sense of urgency had vanished. He touched the right side of her face, drawing his fingers lightly over the bruise that was almost invisible, a faint yellow mark she’d hardly noticed when she glanced in the bathroom mirror that morning.

  “Someone hit you. You remembered that.”

  She couldn’t deny it. “But you’d never do anything to harm me, Jess. I know that. I’m not even sure why I thought of And-- of him just now.”

  He smoothed her hair back from her forehead. “Our bodies tend to remember things, darlin’, even when our minds try to forget them. Especially--” He broke off, wincing. “Especially if he hurt you. . .sexually.”

  It was a question, though a tentative one. Something about the dark night and the warmth of Jess’s body above hers broke through Cassie’s resolve. If she was very careful, she could tell Jess a little about that night. If she left out the end of the story.

  “Well, he didn’t--I mean, nothing really happened,” she said.

  Jess touched her cheek again as he arched one dark eyebrow. His thighs were tight against her own, the muscles of his neck standing out like knotted cords. “Nothing? I wouldn’t call that bruise nothing.”

  “Well, he tried to--he pushed me down, and he--” She couldn’t even say it. She squeezed her eyes shut against the image of Andrew looming above her in his living room, Andrew advancing, fists clenched. “But I was lucky.”

  She felt Jess relax, almost imperceptibly, and when he spoke she heard the stark relief in his voice. “He didn’t rape you?”

  “He would have. But I fought him off.” She spoke firmly, without regret, surprising herself. Then again, she didn’t actually feel guilty for defending herself against Andrew. She’d done what she had to do.

  “Thank God for that,” Jess said. His eyes burned like two hard, cold coals. “I hope you hurt the bastard, too.”

  Oh, I did. In fact, I killed him. She almost said the words aloud, then bit her lip to stop herself.

  She’d never heard Jess sound so ruthless, almost bloodthirsty. He must have seen the surprise in her expression. “I’m an officer of the law, Cassie. I can’t condone vigilantism. But if there’s anyone who deserves to suffer, it’s a man who attacks a woman.” He clenched his teeth, his expression savage. “If I ever got a hold of this guy. . . .”

  “You won’t,” Cassie said, with absolute assurance.

  “Oh?” Jess studied her face. “How can you know that?”

  She’d said too much. She gulped, her mind whirling. “Because he--he’s not walking around free anymore,” she blurted.

  “He’s in prison? Good.”

  She’d let him think that. Cassie turned her face away and feigned emotional overload. It wasn’t much of a stretch. “Do--do you mind if we change the subject?”

  “Oh, darlin’, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it all back for you.” Jess rolled off of her, then gathered her in his arms and kissed her gently.

  Cassie sighed happily as his lips caressed hers. “Jess?”

  “Huh?”

  “Do you, you know. . . .”

  “What?”

  “Do you still want to make love to me?” she blurte
d.

  His laughter was a low, rough purr in his throat, a sound that vibrated through her body as he nibbled her lower lip. “You bet I do, Cassie. But let’s take it slow, okay? Maybe it won’t happen tonight, or tomorrow night, but sooner or later I think it will. How’s that for an answer?”

  “It’ll do,” she said, with another contented sigh, and he laughed again.

  They lay together for several minutes, and Jess was right. There was no hurry. Her anticipation only added to the pleasure of Jess’s gentle, exploratory kisses. She laid her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, just for a moment.

  “Cassie? Wake up, darlin’.”

  Her eyes flew open. Jess was shaking her shoulder. “I hate to disturb you,” he said, “especially when you’re smiling in your sleep. But it’s after two, and getting colder. We need to go inside.”

  She scrambled to her feet. “The kits--”

  “We’ll feed them together.”

  As they walked back to the house, he took her hand. His fingers--thick, rough, and warm--closed around her own. She let out a blissful sigh. She’d never been so happy.

  If only the feeling could last forever.

  Two days later, on a sunshiny afternoon, Jess wiped his hands on his apron and grinned at Cassie. She looked incredible in her blue birthday dress, with her camera slung around her neck and her bright hair tumbling around her shoulders. As she hobbled across the grass on her high-heeled sandals, and he noticed she’d painted her toenails with sparkly silver polish.

  “Another cheeseburger, anyone?” Jess asked, as he slid his spatula under a charred hunk of meat. “Well done, just the way you like ‘em!”

  Tanya bounced down the steps from the porch, where she’d been watching the baby raccoons crawl about on a cushion. At about two weeks old, the kits’ eyes had opened--though their ears remained pressed against their heads--and they’d begun to churr, growl, hiss and give snorts of alarm when they felt threatened. Both were thriving, to Tanya and Cassie’s delight. Even Gus was charmed.

  “I’ll take another hot dog,” Tanya said. She was quite a sight herself in a frilly white organdy dress, but hardly more astonishing than Gus in a threadbare tuxedo, or Jess in his one-and-only suit, a dark gray number he normally donned for funerals and little else. Cassie had insisted that the others dress up, too, though Jess had cheated a little by wearing a black leather bola instead of a tie, and by leaving his coat on the porch and rolling up his shirtsleeves.

  “Say ‘catsup’!” Cassie demanded. She aimed the Leica Jess’s way as he grabbed for his metal tongs and dropped the last hotdog into Tanya’s waiting bun. Cassie clicked away, giggling, as Tanya headed back to the porch. “Love the apron,” Cassie teased.

  “What, this old thing?” He laughed and smoothed the front, which sported an picture of an angry steer and the motto, “Don’t give me any of your bull.” “How about you, Cassie? Another burger?”

  She patted her stomach and shook her head. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”

  He cast a rueful eye over the three extra hamburger patties. “So what am I supposed to do with these?”

  “Give me one.”

  He nudged a charbroiled patty onto a paper plate and handed it over. “You changed your mind?”

  “Nope. This one’s for Harry. I’m going to make friends with that dog if it kills me.” She slapped her thigh. “Harry! Over here, Harry. I’ve got a treat for you!”

  The dog, who lay a few feet away with his head on his paws, eyed her warily from under one floppy ear. He didn’t move an inch. Cassie turned back to Jess. “Help me out, won’t you?”

  He smiled, then let out a piercing whistle. Harry jumped up like a shot and bounded over, his tongue hanging from his mouth. A high whine emerged from his throat.

  “Here, boy.” Cassie tore the burger into smaller chunks, then offered the plate.

  Harry glanced up at Jess. “Go on,” Jess said, gesturing with his walking stick. Now that his sprain was on the mend, he’d abandoned the cumbersome crutches in favor of the sturdy stick with its curved handle and polished wood.

  The dog stepped forward cautiously, swallowed the meat in two gulps, then retreated again. Cassie sighed. “I don’t think he’ll ever trust me.”

  “Give it time. You have to take these things slowly.”

  A seductive smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “That’s what you said the other night, about the two of us,” she said softly, so that Tanya and Gus wouldn’t hear. “I’m still waiting.”

  Jess laughed, but he felt an unmistakable tightening of male flesh. It had taken all his self-control, out by the orchard, to tell Cassie he wasn’t in a rush. Now he almost regretted his restraint. He remembered the cool satin ribbons of her hair under his fingertips, the soft, giving weight of her breasts against his chest, crushed against him with each breath she took. Still, as much as he wanted her, he also wanted to be sure--sure she was ready, sure the moment was right.

  She hadn’t told him everything. He knew that. But he was ready to trust her anyway. Jess set down his tongs and closed the space between them. He ran his fingers lightly down her bare arm, then buried his face in her hair. Her natural scent--no way they sold anything so sweet in a bottle--made him dizzy with need.

  “Not much longer,” he whispered, his voice husky. “I can’t wait, either.”

  She breathed his name. Her lips brushed his, and he felt higher than a teenager on his first drinking binge. No hangover this time, though. Just the euphoria. Hungrily, he kissed Cassie back.

  “Scuse me, kids, but where’s that cake?”

  Jess stepped back, startled by the sound of his uncle’s voice behind him. Gus wax grinning like the cat who’d swallowed the canary, and Jess had no doubt that the old man had witness the whole tender scene.

  “Yeah, Jess,” Cassie teased. “You did bake me one, didn’t you?”

  “Of course I did.” He’d banished her from the kitchen all morning for just that purpose. “I’ll be right back.”

  When he brought out the cake, they all gathered on the porch to watch Cassie blow out the candles. Happy tears glazed her eyes when she saw the cake. “Oh, it’s beautiful. This must have taken forever.”

  He shrugged, suddenly shy. He’d worked on the cake for two hours, getting everything just right. The devil’s food cake itself. The chocolate frosting. The chocolate shavings. The tea roses--wild ones, picked from the woods up behind the cabin--arrayed around the plate. The 25 lighted candles, of course, and Cassie’s name in blue frosting. He’d smeared the capital C a little, but other than that, it was pretty darn perfect.

  “You like it?” he asked.

  “I love it.”

  Tanya jumped up and down impatiently. “Make a wish, Cassie. Make a wish and blow out the candles, quick.”

  Cassie smiled and closed her eyes.. The emotions that played across her face made Jess’s breath catch in his throat. Joy, fear, desire, uncertainty--it was all there. She pursed her lips and blew. One by one, the candles flared and died. Jess joined Tanya and Gus as they cheered her.

  “What did you wish for?” Jess asked, softly.

  Cassie opened her mouth, but Tanya gave a shriek of outrage. “Don’t tell him! You can’t tell him, or it won’t come true!”

  Cassie smiled, a little sadly, and laid her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell,” she said. She met Jess’s eyes, and gave him a wicked half-smile. “But I’ll bet you anything he already knows.”

  Two hours later, Jess came in from saying goodbye to Gus and found Cassie running a sinkful of hot, soapy water. The gathering twilight cast shadows over her face; she hadn’t bothered to switch on the kitchen lights. Outside, dark clouds had moved in to cover the sun. Jess smelled rain. It ought to start falling in the night, as far as he could figure.

  “Hey, quit that,” he said indignantly, as she piled plates into the sink. “The birthday girl never does the dishes.”

  Cassie shrugged and plun
ged her hands into the suds. “I don’t mind.”

  “Well, I do.” He crossed to the kitchen and embraced her from behind. “Anyway, you’re dressed like a princess, not a scullery maid.”

  She gave a throaty laugh and leaned back against him. “Princesses never do dishes? What a life!”

  He laid aside his walking stick, reached into the steaming water, and caught her hands in his, pulling them from the sink. Her skin felt hot to the touch. Frothy white bubbles decorated her arms up to the elbows.

  With excruciating slowness, she turned to face him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaving a snail’s trail of silvery soap bubbles on his collar. “Actually,” she whispered, her lips barely half an inch from his, “maybe we should just let those cake pans soak for a while.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Jess grazed her cheek with his lips. Her skin was smooth, unblemished, almost translucent--like fine marble, but richly flushed and alive. Though she’d barely touched him, he was hard already, completely ready to make love to her. Still, in spite of the dark, heavy, almost painful ache of arousal, he hesitated. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he whispered into her ear.

  She nodded, but her lips were trembling, her eyes overbright as she gazed up at him. “You’re nervous,” he observed.

  “In a good way.” She pressed her satin cheek against the stubble on his,. “Please, Jess. I’m ready. Unless--will it be all right, with your ankle--”

  “My ankle’s fine.” He’d forgotten all about it. Tt supported most of his weight now. Only a slight soreness remained, and the occasional twinge of pain was the last thing on his mind right now. “But there’s no rush, Cassie, remember?”

  “I’m not rushing into anything. This is what I want.”

  Her soft words pushed him to the do what he’d wanted to do since the night they’d met. Silently, he took her hand and led her across the cabin to his temporary bed. He sat on the edge, then pulled her onto his lap, her legs across his thighs. Her creamy skin was awash with color, one thin strap of her dress slipping from her rounded left shoulder. He tugged her closer, stifling a groan as her full bottom came to rest between his thighs.